Mine
by ficlit78
Summary: Post Russet Potatoes. Grace decides to pay Rigsby a visit and deal with their issues after his hot, hot kiss. Lots of naked stuff happens. Please heed the rating.


**Author's Note**: Post Russet Potatoes. I own nothing, as usual. Grace and Rigsby need to stop torturing all of us and just do it already.

**Mine**

Grace stood outside of his apartment at 10pm that same evening. She kept meaning to knock, but couldn't quite bring herself to do so. Instead she shifted from one foot to the other, wondering what she'd say, what she'd ask, wanting desperately to talk to him about what happened and at the same time wanting to be as far away from this door as possible. She shook her head at her own indecision and knocked on the door before she could stop herself. She heard footsteps and the door opened with Rigsby standing in the frame. He nearly filled it with his height and breadth. He was dressed in a black tee shirt and grey cotton running pants. His short hair was tousled, his eyes looked tired. He gave a small smile to his unexpected guest and opened the door all the way. "Come in," he said. He turned and she followed him inside, closing the door behind her. She took stock of him as he walked in front of her through the entryway. She couldn't help it. His tee shirt clung to his shoulders and back, his thick arms were ropey, muscular, and well defined. His waist was trim and his butt—she looked away. Best not dwell on how cute his butt was in those pants. He led her into his kitchen and pointed to a bar stool. "Can I get you something? Water? Beer?" Rigsby saw no reason not to be a good host just because he'd grabbed his guest earlier that day and kissed her like there was no tomorrow in front of all of their colleagues. His momma raised him better. She shook her head as she sat on the stool, smiling nervously at him. He poured himself a water and leaned back against the counter before allowing himself to look at her. He took a deep breath and started first. "I am so, so sorry, Grace."

She was surprised. "Why are you sorry?"

"For…for kissing you today. According to Lisbon I just walked up and grabbed you. I had no right. I hope you forgive me," he stared down at his water as he spoke, clearly ashamed of his actions.

Her smile shifted from nervous to soft. "You had no way of controlling it, Wayne. Jane said you were highly suggestible and had no inhibitions. You clearly weren't yourself at the time," she paused. "And you didn't take anything that I didn't give." He glanced up at the last part. "Meaning?" he asked. She looked down at her hands, "Meaning I didn't exactly struggle. You kissed me, I kissed you back. I don't want you thinking that you overpowered me or anything." She blushed slightly, but he deserved to hear the truth. She knew him well enough to know that he'd be terrified that he used his stronger body against her, to force her to submit to him. Like he'd ever be capable of hurting her, with or without hypnosis, she thought.

"I see," he said. "And why would you kiss me back?" He was looking down, but smiling slightly.

Grace smirked. "Would you rather have me fight you off? Slap you? Again?"

Rigsby chuckled, remembering the very respectable open-handed smack she gave his left cheek. She took the moment to jump off the stool and slowly walk up to him, her head down, looking up at him from under her lashes. "Personally, I'd rather we just admit what's happening between us," she said, coming to a halt about a foot in front of him. He set his glass down and cocked his head towards her, his expression unreadable. "What's happening between us, Grace?"

She sighed. She was suddenly so tired of games, tired of dancing around each other. If he didn't want to talk about it, she'd just take her cue. She pulled her keys from her purse and put the strap over her shoulder as she began to back away from him. "Never mind, then. I'll just see you Monday." He grabbed her by her shoulders so suddenly that she dropped her things in surprise as he brought her within inches of his face, which was now wide-eyed with alarm at her leaving. "What _is_ happening between us, Grace? I'm not being coy. I want to know what you think. I know how I feel and I've made a damn fool of myself more than once showing it. But I'm not Jane and I can't read your mind. Tell me, Grace. Please, tell me what you're thinking."

He let his hands fall from her shoulders but she caught one up in her own, turning it slowly and looking at it as she talked, "When I was dating Dan, it bothered you a lot, didn't it?" He nodded, watching her examine his fingers. "You know it did," he paused before asking, "When Jackie came to pick me up for dinner after country club case, it bothered you a lot, didn't it?"

Grace slowly brought his hand to her face, brushing his knuckles against her lips. "Very much," she admitted. Rigsby turned his hand in hers, running his fingertips over her lips. She moved closer to him, closing her eyes and letting her tongue slip out to taste the saltiness of his skin. He put his thumb under her chin, lifting her face and causing her to open her eyes. She noticed his pupils had dilated. His body was tense, he senses on overload the minute her lips touched his hand. He looked down at her intently as he struggled to keep still, "You need to tell me to stop, Grace. You can leave now, we can always talk later, but you need to tell me 'no' now." Grace appraised him through lowered lids. He was trying to be a gentleman, giving her an out and letting her go with her emotional state and virtue intact. It was this sweetness, this restraint in him, that her made want the very opposite of what he offered. Instead she closed the gap between them, rose up on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as hungrily as he had done that afternoon.

Rigsby reacted by pulling her body flush against his, his hands sliding across her hips and the small of her back. His lips teased her mouth open, his tongue darting in, encouraging hers to do the same to him. Grace broke the kiss and gasped for air and looked up at Rigsby through lowered and hungry eyes. Seeing her expression so full of desire, Rigsby felt a pang of need bite deep in his groin. He wanted nothing more than to strip this woman naked, toss her on a mattress and plunder her body until neither could walk. But he wrestled these thoughts into check. This was _Grace_, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her with his overwhelming craving. He must be gentle. Gentle.

Grace saw his expression change slightly; he was trying to calm himself down. Even in her lust-addled state she couldn't help but smile and pull his face to hers, gently. She swooped in for a kiss, only to dodge him at the last second. She smiled saucily up at him, gauging his reaction to her playfulness. He chuckled softly. She traced her fingernails along his jugular, causing him to shudder with pleasure, close his eyes and obediently bare his throat to her. Grace felt dizzy with power. This formidable man was giving her full access to his body. Whatever she wanted of him was hers. She came forward and kissed his throat, lightly at first, then harder, nibbling at his collarbone and jaw line. She gasped when she heard him growl deep in his throat. Oh, he was hers all right. And she was succeeding in breaking the control he had on his urges. She put her lips to his ear, nipping at his earlobe before she spoke, "I'm not all that fragile, Wayne. Touch me. Please touch me."

And with that the dam burst. Before she even knew what he was doing Rigsby had splayed his hands across her ass and yanked her upwards. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders for balance. He held her up by her ribcage, tracing his thumbs over her breasts while he kissed her hard, demanding entrance to her mouth. She moaned into their kiss, wanting every inch of him. He walked into the living room and over to the sofa, sitting so that she straddled him when they come down. She reared up onto her knees on either side of him, pulling at the edges of his tee shirt and yanking it impatiently over his head. His body was stunning. His shoulders, chest and stomach muscles all stood out in relief and moved heavily with his ragged breathing. She could just make out the faded burn scar on his right forearm. Still perched above him, she pulled her own shirt off and removed her bra, throwing them to the floor. Rigsby inhaled sharply, devouring her slender body with his eyes, followed closely by his hands, which trailed deliciously up her torso, cupping her pert breasts before moving up to her face. "God, you're beautiful," he whispered. She blushed and looked down, suddenly shy. "So are you." He pulled her down to him and kissed her reddened cheeks. Her hands began their own discovery of his arms and chest. As she lowered herself to sit in his lap she felt his cock, rock hard and pulsing, under her thighs. Without thinking she reached down between their bodies and stroked him through his pants. His eyes nearly crossed from pleasure. Grace smiled into their kiss, feeling especially mischievous. She rose suddenly from his lap, causing him to instantly frown, worried he had upset her as he'd tried so hard not to. Instead she reached down and deftly pulled his sweatpants and boxers cleanly from his body in one pull. He sat naked, aroused and so large that Grace felt lightheaded. He pulled at her hands, wanting her back in his lap, but she resisted. Instead she kneeled gracefully between his legs and, before he could object, grasped his cock with one hand and licked him base to tip. Rigsby instinctively bucked his hips, fighting the betrayal of his body while he brokenly bit out, "Grace, no. You don't have to—," "I want to," she interrupted, circling the head with her tongue. "Let me, Wayne. I want to taste you." What little effort he had towards arguing was lost in the pleasure of her words. She wanted him. Fully. She wasn't afraid of him. He let himself relax and lose himself in her touch. She smiled against him, glad he was giving in. As a reward, she took him deep into her throat, moaning loudly, sending vibrations down his cock. Rigsby swore loudly and thrust his hips upwards again. He held his hands in tight fists on either side of him, letting Grace move as she wished, not wanting to break this dizzying spell she was casting by interfering. Grace noticed his fists as she looked up to his face, his eyes shut tightly as he gasped and panted. Without stopping her movements, she reached out and took one of his fists in her hand, opening his fingers and lacing hers through them. He opened his eyes and stared at their joined hands while her head moved in his lap, her vibrant hair splayed across his thighs. She then reached for his other hand, which she gently brought to the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair, cupping his palm to the curve of her skull. He tenderly held her that way as she continued to suck him senseless. His heart swelled. She understood his reservations and was sweetly dispelling them. His body convulsed under her again and Rigsby could stand no more. He cupped Grace's cheeks, gently pulling her away from him. She whimpered in protest and he smiled. "Your turn," he rasped, scooping her up as if she weighed nothing and walking into his bedroom. He took a chance with her playfulness and tossed her into the bed. She giggled as she bounced onto the mattress. He then mimicked her earlier move and stripped her of her sandals, jeans and panties in rapid succession. She pulled her legs together in subconscious primness and he melted at her cuteness. "Sorry, sweetie. But you're not escaping after what you just put me through," and with that he mounted the bed, pulled her calves to him and gently nudged her legs apart, the legs that drove him crazy every time she wore a skirt to work. She stiffened a fraction, it had been a while since a man had touched her this way, and none she'd felt as strongly about as Rigsby. Her mind suddenly gave into scary thoughts. What if she didn't satisfy him? What if he's only returning the favor?

Rigsby watched her face as he caressed her pelvis and brushed his fingers against her waxed folds. "Let me, Grace. I've imagined this moment for so long." She trembled, but nodded. He smiled at her reassuringly before lowering his head between her thighs and striking her clit with his tongue. She gasped loudly, automatically arching her back. He spread her folds with his fingers. Dipping his tongue along her ridges, loving her heady taste of sweet tarts and pineapple. He circled her clit, striking it again causing electrical currents to shoot through her body. As he continued his onslaught, Grace writhed and whimpered beneath him, crying out his name when he tongued her deeply. His name on her lips was more intoxicating than any drug. He tasted the wetness of her and knew she was ready for him. And as much as he wanted to continue, his own needs were becoming too urgent to ignore. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Grace reached for him, raking her fingers through his dark hair. "Wayne, please. I need you." He raised his head, still not quite believing that this was going to happen, but not about to stop and enjoy the thought. He crawled up her body through her legs, positioning his hips between hers. He kissed her deeply, wanting her to taste herself on him and vice versa. Grace wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging onto him while she tried to nudge him into her body. He held back and clucked his tongue at her while he reached into his bed table and withdrew a condom package from the drawer. Grace smiled sheepishly as she took the packet from him. At least someone was thinking ahead. She opened the foil and, never breaking eye contact from him, held the condom in place and rolled it down his length. He stayed motionless as he gazed deeply into her lovely copper eyes. It nearly killed him, but he had to ask. "Are you sure?" His body was tense with his weight propped onto his arms. Grace stared into his sincere face, down his large muscular frame, to his thick, jutting cock that all waited patiently for her answer. She saw a flicker of fear in his eyes, terrified that even now, naked and crushed against each other, she would reject him. She lost her heart to him for good. She traced her finger along his stubbled cheek, staring deep into those sweet blue pools, willing him to know. "I love you," she said. She pulled his lips to hers while her hands grabbed his hips, guiding him into her. Rigsby broke their kiss, hissed and raggedly exhaled as her wetness pulled him in inch by inch while her tightness squeezed him, milking him. Oh, sweet Christ was she tight. He'd never felt anything so beautiful in all his life. Grace wrapped her legs around his waist, taking him deeper, straining her body up into his. "Yessss," she breathed and thrust her hips upwards. Wayne pulled back and plunged again, building up a slow rhythm while he and Grace kissed every inch of skin they could reach on each other. They tried at first to take it slow, to enjoy their exploration, but their love was new, and their bodies demanding, and soon their pace was so frenzied that it bordered on angry. Kisses turned to nips and bites. Caressing fingers became clutching and possessive.

Rigsby grabbed Grace by the hips and holding tight, flipped their positions without breaking their tempo. Grace once again straddled him, sitting upright and gazing down into his face. Once again she became shy. She felt exposed in this position under his intense gaze. She shifted to lie down on top of him, but he held her upright. "Ride me, Grace. I want to watch you ride me." She blushed deeply at the request, but her desire to please the man she loved was stronger than her modesty. She placed her hands on his chest and, arching her back, ground her hips into his, pushing him deep into her body. She began to move on him, clenching her inner muscles and releasing as she slid up and down his shaft. Rigsby held her hips, splaying her thighs, taking him deeper. Her eyes closed and she forgot her self-consciousness. God, he felt good in her. She increased her speed, riding him harder. He had a look of absolute wonder as he hissed her name in pure unbridled joy. "Graaaace," he ground out, watching her lithe form continue to fuck him with such enthusiasm. She felt a delicious pressure building inside of her body, it increased with every thrust. She became breathless, her eyes rolled back. "Wayne--oh God. I'm com—coming. I'm coming." And suddenly her body went rigid, her back arched again and her walls clamped down on him like a vice. She screamed his name. She continued to move her hips, seeking every last ripple of the orgasm that ripped through her. In her delirium she felt Rigsby move beneath her, switch their positions again and roll her to her back while he loomed over her. She held him loosely, barely able to form a thought, but she knew that he hadn't come yet, so she whispered to him and gazed lovingly at his face. "Take me, Wayne. Take me hard." With that, Rigsby lost himself to instinct, pulling back and ramming himself fully into her at a frantic pace. She held on, gasping with each thrust. He was losing it, he felt it coming. And then he came. Hard. He didn't scream. He roared. His entire body shook as he ejaculated, his arms trembled under his weight and he felt like he was melting. As the last tremors rippled through him, he sank his body onto hers. He tried to take more weight onto his arms to keep from crushing her, but she locked her arms and legs around him, sensing his thoughts. "Stay," she said simply. He gave in and rested completely on her, still buried deep between her thighs.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed that way. It felt like hours. Eventually his worry that he was too heavy for her won out and he gently pulled up, slipping out of her in the process. He instantly felt cold and incomplete. He wondered how he'd ever managed to get along without Grace in his life. He settled next to her, removing the condom and tossing it in the trash. She melded herself to his side, laying her head on his chest and braiding her legs with his. She lay listening to his heartbeat for a long time while he traced small circles along her back before they finally slipped off into a dreamless sleep.

After all, it had been a long day.

The clock read 8:43 when Rigsby awoke from the best night's sleep he'd had in years. Sunlight streamed through his window and landed squarely on the bright red hair scattered on his chest. Grace was still curled into his side, sleeping soundly with her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder. They hadn't moved all night. Last night came flooding back to him and he couldn't help grinning from ear to ear. So this is what it feels like to be the luckiest man alive, he thought, as he began toying with a lock of her hair. _So_ red, he mused. Such a beautiful girl. And, if he chose to be vulgar, she was also a stunning fuck. She murmured in her sleep, shifting slightly. Rigsby felt a pang of worry as he thought of her waking up in his arms, in his bed. She had said she loved him. Was she serious? They always say you should ignore any "I love yous" uttered in the heat of the moment. After the intimacy they had shared last night, would she feel embarrassed? Had he forced her into physical positions that she hadn't wanted? She had blushed, after all. Oh shit, what had he done?

Rigsby continued his self-rebuke when Grace raised her head from his shoulder and looked up at him sleepily. She destroyed his fears with one word. "Hi," she smiled at him. No anger, no shame, just genuine contentment graced her features. He exhaled the breath he'd been holding and smiled back, continuing to play with her strand of hair. "Hi back." She peppered his chest with butterfly kisses, nuzzling her nose against his ribs while fluttering her eyelashes over his skin. Rigsby found it very sweet, very erotic and insanely tickling. He flinched and chuckled, which made her giggle lightly before she settled back down against him. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine," he replied.

"Hmmm. S'late," she stretched languidly, brushing her arms and legs across him. He was slowly beginning to wake up now, and his body was informing him already that it was still extremely interested in the lady next to him. He felt himself begin to stir again as Grace continued to stretch her limbs out. Her hand brushed him and she froze. She looked up into his face and arched an eyebrow. "Already? Don't tell me I have one of those insatiable sex machines as a lover now." He grabbed her by her elbows and dragged her up his body, bring her nose to nose with him, sandwiching his hardening erection between them. She shrieked in surprise, laughing as he held her in place as she pretended to struggle. "So I'm your lover now, am I?" he grinned, his hands stroking her sides, her hips, cupping her ass. She captured his face in her hands. "I should certainly hope so. Unless now that you've had me, you plan to toss me out like a two bit tramp. Wham, bam, thankya ma'am and so forth. Why?" she asked playfully as she pressed her pelvis into his. "Don't you want me? Was last night _that _uninteresting to you?"

He grabbed her hips and thrust upwards, wanting her to feel just how interesting he found her. "You have no idea how much last night meant to me," he growled. "You stagger me, Grace. If you'll let me say it, I've never fucked or been fucked so exquisitely in my life." Grace inhaled sharply at his words, their brazenness and roughness sending a bolt of electricity straight to her groin. He continued to hold her gaze, still sliding his hands along her body. "You've bewitched me, sweetie. I love you so much I can't think straight. I want to wake up like this every morning, with a night like last night proceeding it."

Grace trembled in his arms. His words mirrored her thoughts, like he'd stolen them.

"What I said last night, I meant it," she whispered. "I love you, all of you. I love your eyes," she caressed his temple. "I love your sweetness. I love how you look at me across a room. I love your strength. I love your body, how I feel so protected in your arms," her voice caught in her throat. "I love your smile. I love your sincerity, how you couldn't lie to me if you tried. I love how you love me. And, Wayne?" she swallowed, deciding to use them same word of his that brought wetness between her thighs. "Know for a fact that I love how you _fuck_ me."

Rigsby ached with yearning at her words. Even laying with her like this, whispering their feelings to each other, he couldn't get enough of her. He nudged at her legs, teasing them to open, to take him in again. She surprised him by closing them firmly, shocked him by pushing his arms away and rising from the bed. She stood next him, turning away and lazily stretching her gorgeous body upwards like a cat, then she walked like a minx towards his bathroom, her ass switching back and forth. He groaned at the sight and all of his blood went south to fill his erection. She gave him a sultry look over her shoulder. "Anything you want in that department you'll have to get in the shower." And disappeared through the door.

He heard the shower start and counted to twenty before jumping out of bed and rushing the bathroom door. His shower was big, as he insisted for most of his things that had to hold his body for any length of time. It was cube in shape with a flat floor, one spout on either side. Grace had turned on both. She was soaping herself from neck to calves, the lather making her look like a porn star. Her hair was plastered to her neck and shoulders, giving her a totally different sexy look. Rigsby was imagining all of the things he planned to do to her in that shower when he noticed bruises on her neck, breasts and thighs, just peeking out from the soap. Finger marks. Bite marks. All his. His mind panicked, leaping to dozens of crime scenes he'd covered, female victims dead and broken from sexual assaults that he could never fathom bestowing on a woman. But apparently he could, apparently he had. Little Grace. Sweet, trusting Grace. He'd put those marks on her body and hadn't even realized he'd done it. What did that make _him_? She caught his eye and, without saying a word, turned her back to him and leaned forward in obvious invitation. He padded across the floor, opened the shower door and stepped in. He completely ignored her provocative pose and straightened her up, turning her to face him. She obeyed, looking quizzically into his frown. He brushed his thumb over one of the larger bruises just above her left breast. Grace looked down to where his attention was directed. "I hurt you," he said. He features had turned black. He was wiping the soap away from her body, taking stock of the damage he caused. Grace followed his gaze to each mark, just as surprised as him to find them. None of them hurt and she didn't even recall receiving them. Rigsby had a look of absolute self-loathing on his face. He wouldn't even raise his eyes to meet hers as he clinically catalogued the injuries he convinced himself he inflicted on her. Grace stepped into his space, peeking up into his eyes, forcing him to look at her. His expression broke her heart. So miserable, so guilty. She could almost hear his thoughts. He'd lost control, he'd practically beat her, he couldn't be trusted with her. She slipped her arms around his neck, pressing her soft breasts into his hard chest and hugged him as the water slashed at their backs. "You know I gave you a few of your own," she gestured to his chest and shoulders. He looked down at his own body and sure enough. He had several angry red scratches and purple bite marks scattered across his torso. He looked unconvinced. "That's different. You're smaller and these marks didn't hurt me."

"Neither did mine," she nuzzled under his chin. He still looked so ashamed, so she chose a different tactic. "You know that in certain circles, these are known as marks of possession," she said. He snorted in anger. "Possession? Like I was possessed when I gave them to you?" She smiled and shook her head. "Meaning we gave them to each other equally. Consensually. Possession as in I'm yours, and you're mine." Rigsby looked up at this. "Mine," he echoed uncertainly. Grace continued to smile and brushed his lips with hers. "And mine," she affirmed, nibbling his lower lip with her teeth, scraping gently, before kissing him fully. She pressed herself into him, feeling his arms slowly encircle her waist. She whispered loudly over the cascade, "You didn't hurt me, baby. You claimed me." And with that she turned away from him, her back pressed into his chest as she leaned forward, presenting herself to him. She turned her head over her shoulder. "Yours," she repeated. He slowly slid his hands over her hips, brushing his cock lightly against her ass, still hard and seeking. "No condom this time?" she giggled. He hesitated, realizing his error. Her hands reached back and stroked him. "It's okay. I'm on the pill. Plus we get monthly clinic visits at work, right?" she pointed out. He nodded, nearly fainting at the idea of not just fucking Grace, not just fucking her doggie style in his shower, but being allowed to do so without a rubber. He brushed his tip against her entrance, still tight, still wet. He pushed forward slowly until he was buried to the hilt. Grace arched her head back, pushing her hands against the shower wall and using the leverage to push back into him. Rigsby groaned with pleasure at the feel of his naked cock sliding into hot liquid silk. This woman, _his _woman, made his every thought fly right out the window to make room for the earth-shattering bliss she gave him. He withdrew and reentered slowly, still unsettled by her bruises despite her assurances. Grace understood his uncertainty, letting him set the pace and voicing her pleasure with sighs and words of comfort. They slowly sank to the floor, Grace on all fours while Rigsby worked her from behind. His pace was picking up and Grace shuddered and moaned at the feel of him buried so deep inside of her. Her mewls of delight spurred him on, and soon he was pumping into her at a frantic speed. Grace felt drunk with desire. She imagined what they must look like, rutting like animals on the shower floor, it caused tingles to break out in her breasts, belly and deep between her legs. They came together this time. Just as Rigsby worried that he couldn't hold out long enough for her, she cried out, coming hard and shivering in waves of ecstasy. He came right behind her, hissing and gasping as he emptied himself deep in her womb, holding her hips, burying himself as he stroked a precious few more times within her. They fell to one side, Rigsby spooning her protectively as it continued to rain hot water from above. Slowly, Grace disengaged and turned in his arms. Looking into his eyes, letting her love shine through her own. She kissed him lightly. "_Now_ we shower for real."

They stayed locked in Rigsby's apartment for the rest of the weekend. They watched tv, talked about family, movies, politics and just about every other subject matter. They cooked their meals and did the dishes together. They catnapped laying on the sofa. And between all of this they had twenty-odd sessions of the most mind-blowing sex of their lives. Every few hours they'd fall on each other, often attacking the other without warning. Grace was looking in Rigsby's closet for something to wear when Rigsby grabbed her from behind, spun her around and took her up against the wall. Rigsby was reading the paper at the dining table when Grace walked up behind him and gently took his arms behind his back. He thought nothing of it until he heard a metallic click and realized his wrists had been handcuffed together behind the chair. Grace circled him, stark naked, pushed the table away, straddled him and proceeded to give him a lap dance. "House rules," she smiled. "No touching." Her body stayed tantalizingly out of reach from his mouth and he fought hard against his restraints as she squeezed him and arched into his body, simulating sex that he couldn't participate in. In the end he busted the chair into splinters to get to her. She was secretly delighted that she could bring out such a ferocious streak in an otherwise sweet man. He was secretly delighted that she felt bold enough to cocktease him so skillfully. A cornerstone for them both came late Sunday night when Grace was rummaging through his bedside table.

"So, how many other erotic implements are in here besides condoms? Any riding crops or hot wax I should know about?" she smiled at him propped up in bed reading a book, the same book she had made him read out loud as she gave him a blow job earlier that day. He closed his book and looked over at her with a smirk. She was wearing one of his button-down shirts and nothing else. How did she always look so adorable? "Not that I know about. That drawer doesn't get much use." Grace reached into the back and pulled out an unopened jar of lubricant. "And this? What dastardly plans did you have for this?"

Rigsby appraised the jar in her hand. "Nothing at all. Must be someone else's." Grace snorted. Rigsby's gaze turned predatory as he looked at her. "Give me a dastardly plan to entertain for it, Grace."

Grace cocked her head at the jar, giving it scholarly contemplation. "For this stuff, I think," she began, and then stopped. She dropped her cute pretending and looked at him a bit uncertainly. "I think I'd like to try to…to have…anal sex…with you."

Well, _that _was unexpected. Rigsby also dropped his mask of sexual predation and looked at her in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, but we don't have to--. I mean, if you don't want to I—," Rigsby cut her off by leaning across the bed and pressing his finger to her lips. "I'd love to. I'd be honored. But I _don't _want to if you're not completely comfortable with the idea. Our relationship is so new, we don't have to rush into anything." Grace kissed his finger against her lips. "No, I want to, I want to try. I've never--," she swallowed. "I've never done it before. I've never wanted to. But I want it now, with you." She looked up at him with uncertain eyes. "Have you ever?" she asked.

Rigsby began to move his finger slowly over her lips, now swollen from their many crushing kisses. "No, I never have. I've never been with anyone who suggested it." He smiled at her tenderly. "If we do this, I want you to promise me you'll tell me if I'm hurting you. Don't stick it out because you don't want to disappoint me. You being in pain would kill me. Promise?" Grace nuzzled her cheek into his palm. "I promise. God, I love you." Rigsby's smile broadened. "Love you more. All right, let's give it a try."

They started out slow, kissing and caressing. Rigsby slowly unbuttoned his shirt from her as she slid his boxers from his legs. Gradually as their movements became more heated, Grace moved onto all fours while Rigsby opened the jar and applied lube to his cock and two fingers. He rubbed her back reassuringly with his other hand. "Remember your promise," he whispered, as he began to massage his lubed fingers along her ass and pussy. She sighed and raised her hips, giving him better access. As he felt her relax, he dipped a single finger into her ass. It was tight and hot as hell. He pushed very slowly, allowing her to get used to the sensation. "Are you all right?" he asked as he moved. She nodded slowly. "It feels…strange. Good, but strange." He decided to go ahead and add his second finger. She still didn't stiffen or pull away. He monitored her reactions carefully. She seemed able to take it without pain. When he felt she was ready, he pulled his fingers from her and positioned himself behind her. "I'm going to go slow. Take only what you can and talk to me, Grace. Keep talking to me." He entered her slowly, holding his breath and moving fractions of an inch. Light immediately exploded behind his eyes. The pressure, the heat that surrounded the tip of his cock was unimaginable. He shook his head to clear it. Grace. "Talk to me," he repeated.

When she spoke she sounded breathless. "Pressure, lots of pressure. No pain though. I'm not hurt. Please keep going. I don't want to stop."

Rigsby quietly thanked God she didn't ask him to stop. He wasn't sure if he could. He pressed forward again with agonizing slowness, the heat enveloping him was excruciatingly wonderful. But he froze when Grace gasped. "Am I hurting you? Grace? Answer me." She shook her head emphatically. "No, no it doesn't hurt. It feels…good. You're brushing something inside me, it's…really nice."

Rigsby gritted his teeth and continued his push forward. He felt his balls brush against her pussy and realized she'd taken all of him. "Oh, God. Grace. You're amazing, do you know that?" He remained still inside of her, not wanting to withdraw just yet. Frankly, he never wanted to leave ever. Grace looked over her shoulder at him, smiling sweetly. "I'm okay, I promise. Pump me, baby. I want to feel you move." In that moment Rigsby decided he was going to marry this woman. His pulled back slowly and reentered. Grace moaned and pushed backwards as he built up a rhythm. His cock was rubbing her G spot from the other side and his balls her slapping her pussy in the most delicious way. She remembered her promise and stayed vocal. "So good, soooo good. You feel, oh God. Don't stop, please? Don't stop."

Her words touched him, warmed him, his brain was on overload as he continued to fuck his new girlfriend in her beautiful peach of an ass. He heard her breathing become quick and shallow, which he'd learned signaled her imminent orgasm. She cried out and shuddered beneath him, her hips trembling and sending more sensation into his body. Rigsby was amazed and more than a little proud that he had managed to get her off in this incredibly intimate way. He continued his steady pace until she rode out her tremors. He leaned forward and whispered, "Do you want me to stop now?" Grace looked back at him, strands of red hair falling against her face. "Come in me, baby. I want to see you come." He inhaled sharply. Her wish was his command. He continued his pace, making sure not to speed up or push too hard as he came closer to orgasm. Grace watched him lustfully over her shoulder, watching him restrain himself, loving him for his tenderness. He came slowly, like a huge ocean wave building up underwater before it suddenly breaks on the shore. He managed to stroke carefully, even in the throes of ejaculation. He slowly came back to earth and gently slipped out of her, leaning down to press a kiss on her ass cheek between his gasps for air. They fell back onto the bed.

She propped herself on her elbow and looked down at him. "That was unbelievable," she said. Rigsby stroked her cheek. "You promise you didn't fake it? You're okay?" She nipped at his hand. "You calling me a liar, mister?" He chuckled. "I just want to be sure that one of the sexiest acts I've ever done wasn't completely one-sided." She kissed the tip of his nose and giggled. "You're not capable of a selfish sexual act and you know it." They settled into what was becoming their usual sleeping position, Rigsby on his back with Grace in his arms at his side. Grace yawned and burrowed deeper into his embrace. "I don't want Monday to ever come," she murmured. He kissed the top of her head. "Me either. Let's just stay here forever, okay? We'll order takeout and live on this bed like a desert island." She nodded, closing her eyes. "Deal."

They slept.


End file.
